a cathartic exploit
by Saybirds
Summary: "Eric Cartman was a disheveled sprawl of bound and shaky limbs. His side ached from the floor and his writhing left him pale scratches on his hip and thigh. His face was a blotched mess of pinks from crying; moreover instead of snivels escaping him he'd wheeze a trifled, desperate moan into the darkness of the room. "


Eric Cartman was a disheveled sprawl of bound and shaky limbs. His side ached from the floor and his writhing left him pale scratches on his hip and thigh. His face was a blotched mess of pinks from crying; moreover instead of snivels escaping him he'd wheeze a trifled, desperate moan into the darkness of the room.

The constant hum of the vibrator left Eric almost wanting more out of the darkness, he felt it tremble his bones while his skin wound up more detached by the hour. And despite it all it still felt hot, and the coolness of the concrete floor couldn't subside the feverishness.

While his teeth nervously worked against the balled fabric in his mouth—tightly fastened by what he'd guessed to be a belt around his head—Eric jiggled his hands against the bonds on his wrists, again they stayed, no more loose than before. He would have considered it a waste of time, already knowing, but being kept possibly below ground in the dark, leashed by the neck with a 10 inch chain to the floor, gagged, and hand bound for hours with a vibrator so far up his ass his lungs felt tingly made him not as pedantic as he would've been.

And god did his dick feel neglected. He wasn't exactly free to rub himself on the floor with the concrete feeling like stony sand paper against his cheek. Eric squeezed his eyes shut, another wave of flash-flood emotions drawing weight to his face from his frustration, he refused to cry this time. But a fat, warm tear found its way from his right eye, making its way down to his upper lip that he couldn't lick away.

More came then and once again, for possibly the twelfth time in several hours, did Eric Cartman blubber up and bawl himself to hiccups, smothering his pasty wet face to the floor to scrape away the tears.

He was going to lose his mind. Or he was going to die, his corpse sporting a fierce hardened cock and friction sores. He pictured his funeral—his body presented in his casket, his mother crying, his boner wearing a diadem in due respect. It would've been nice to imagine more, had the situation now not have been so scary. The tears dried off after a while, leaving his face feeling tacky from the salty tracks. With that the vibrator once again overpowered the soft sounds of his sniveling and gasps.

But the drone of the toy was disrupted suddenly by the sound of a door above rattling open, shoes making their way down creaky wooden stairs followed and Eric twisted around fearfully to catch the movement in the far corner.

His chest seized in blind panic, forcing new vigor into his once lethargic squirming. With the figure now standing crookedly at the foot of the basement stairs, orange cargo pants and sneakers sent a million mixed and apprehending messages Eric's way. His faulty memory was quickly drawing in the smell of chloroform forced against his nose and mouth by an insisting hand…

Thin lips drew back to reveal gleaming, tongue-licked teeth. "Eric."

The minute hairs on Eric's thighs and arms bristled; his breathing quickly paced itself through his nose, he willed himself to breathe quietly to hide the alarm he felt, but fucked his efforts with a frightful jolt the moment Scott Tenorman's foot drew forward.

"Eric Cartman." He gleefully hissed and took another step.

Scott's red hair had grown out; it spiraled in greasy twists over his forehead and hung limply over his ears. His years almost looked spent on cultivating his ragged and tragic complexity, with his grimace settled so easily on his scruffy face. He ditched the cane, his fingers only sat limply by his sides, twitching when his consuming gaze caught Eric's.

"I spent a lot of time thinking," Scott stopped to rest his foot on the heavy cable chain, rolling it beneath his sneaker to tug at Eric's collar. "Lot's of time, and I've really discovered a lot about myself. Y'know that, Eric? Plenty I didn't know."

Too cautious and equally terrified to shut his eyes, Eric remained trained on Scott's stare, he continued:

"Let me tell you this—I envisioned time and time again what I could've done better six years ago. I'd ask myself whether I could have been more violent. Or more threatening. I pictured myself beating you in front of all those people and, wow, did it feel really good." Scott settled down onto his heels, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, his voice had gone very low and ruminative, "And then it became a lot more than just that, to me I mean. Do you have any idea how surreal it'd been for me, masturbating at the idea of doing that kind of shit to my own half-brother? I stopped caring later though, and I moved on to imagining how it'd feel to hold you down, squeeze you in my fingers—" Scott's hand curled around one of Eric's tits, embedding his fingers firmly into the soft skin. "—and how it'd feel to fuck you."

Scott returned to his full height and slithered around to where Eric's legs rattled and tangled together cautiously; he nudged his foot between Eric's shaking thighs to roll him onto his stomach. Eric irrefutably hissed through the gag when his erection was forced to press against the concrete, he lifted his hips to relieve his weight off it, giving Scott more of a reason to laugh at his expense.

"Like what I left?" He jeered, pinching the round edge of the vibrating cylinder between his fingers and sliding it out. "It's ribbed to keep you from pushing it out, but you've already figured that."

The bizarre emptiness was the most ground shattering out of the whole situation, he would have felt relieved, but he could almost still feel the echo of its rattling in every recess of his coiling body. Feeling furious over his humiliation, Eric bucked his foot and kicked Scott between his kneeling thighs, his heel like a swinging bat against his crotch. The moment he had done it was the trigger to the fast sinking feeling that left Eric wanting to throw up against the gag.

Scott gargled a mixed shout, backing away onto his elbow. But he regained himself in a quick second, with only a recovering rub he settled back behind Eric. He gripped his meaty calve tightly and forced it to split away from the other, giving the man latitude to position perfectly behind Eric.

The whole room had shriveled under the quietness, Eric's panicked breathing hardly enough to disrupt the deafening sound of Scott Tenorman peeling his zipper down, a deep grunt, and a shuffle of fabric. This was so fucked up, this was so so fucked up. Eric animated his struggling when saliva glazed fingertips circled within the cleft of his ass, pushing themselves inside.

It felt terrible and sickening, not painful, but grossly arousing. He screamed for it to stop, but when Scott's fingers split and curved to rub the edges, his shrieks watered down to weakened noises of protest.

They were pulled out as soon as they were pushed in, Eric felt relieved, but with his cock still heavy and untouched the need to have fingers back in was like a calling.

"The lube I left only needed a bit of a starter, a lot's dried off," Scott mumbled, partially to himself as he let his calloused palm drift over his swelling prick. He gripped the skin below the head and lifted his hips forward, nudging it past the puckered hole. "God you feel—you feel so good, you feel so fucking great."

There was no waited pause or slow start, Scott pulled right back out and drilled balls deep into the plush, pulsing heat. He fucked Eric into the ground, his wide palms shoving the younger boy's waist to the concrete for a better angle. It was sweat pillowed clap of skin after clap, with Scott's hips sending ripples over Eric's dove white ass.

Eric whimpered against the floor, his face heating up from thrusts. The chain against his neck clinked through the fast rocking of the boy's body; it was pulled taut when Scott jerked his body onto his lap, letting him whet his dick at a more risen angle.

The brilliant sparks Eric felt in certain thrusts was met every time then as Scott's cock curved better in the position. By this point he ignored everything, he was willing to lick the ground Scott walked on if he could just cum like this. And finally he did, his reddened prick gave a spasm, spilling short, ivory ribbons against his belly and the grey of the concrete floor. He could've cried then, and he did, his eyes grew wet and his nose ran at the relief when his cock slowly wilt.

But Scott was still thrusting, he did for another minute, still enjoying the closing on his moving cock until he came in hot spurts. Eric was too exhausted to utter even the softest of noises.

The ordeal was not over for Eric, but he was euphoric enough to let his eyes droop. They snapped open though after he was jolted by a fierce smack to his ass.

"Not yet," Scott frowned, "Not even nearly done. I'm still hard and that was only one to many."


End file.
